It starts with a look. It always starts with a look. It's the kind of look that some people may take as pure, unforgiving hatred or vicious, carnal lust. It all depends on what
type of person you are. What type of person are you? Have you thought about your natural animalistic instincts lately? What triggers your fight or flight reaction? Will you drop to your knees in
submission? Or will you scream and shout and throws your fists around in a blind fit of panic and fear?

Put yourself in the shoes of a fantasist. Someone who idolizes the fear and horror in the world. A person who thinks no differently about subjects such as rape, incest, murder, paedophilia
and necrophilia as they do about watching the game on television or cooking their dinner in the evenings. Imagine yourself with no moral compass, no inner voice telling you what not to do as you
live out your life in a comfortable façade you've been doing so well up to this point. The human mind is a wonderful mechanism. And an even better weapon. Scientists say we can use no more than 15%
of our brain power at any given time. Why is this? What kind of suppressing experience is our subconscious trying to stop us from experiencing?

Could you do it? Could you feel the cold, hard handle of a kitchen knife within your hand, feeling it become more and more slippery as the essence of another life lubricates the hold? Could
you stare into that person's eyes as they go through a thousand unspoken stages of grief in those final few seconds? The shock will hit first. They won't even realize what's happening for the first
few seconds as a lightning storm fries their brain and they lose all kind of cognitive function for a second. The pain will hit quite quickly and the only way they will be able to express it is
with their face. Their eyes, staring into your eyes, asking why in no known language.

Depression will hit. Yes, depression. Imagine waking up that morning, carefree and excited for the brilliant sunshine the day holds and the ability to go out and enjoy it. Heading off to
the grocery store, picking up your favourite ingredients to cook your favourite meal. All of these wondrous things you look forward to in day to day life and not even once, not for one
fucking nanosecond do you even consider the possibility that this is your final day. And then it's done. It hits you. You are dying. The depression will hit you like nothing you have ever
felt before. Tears will stream from your eyes as the blood streams from your veins. Your life won't flash before your eyes because you're too fucking scared to think. You will just keep asking
yourself; Why? Why? Why?

Then comes the thought of hope. Maybe this searing pain is just your body fighting to stay alive. Maybe the blade missed all major organs and arteries. Maybe you will pass out soon and wake
up in a hospital bed. After all, you've read about so many times this has happened in the newspaper and on the internet. Maybe you'll be a part of that majority. But you're not. You're the
minority. You're the kind of person who's name won't be on the news because you survived. You will be a forgotten victim of a person you didn't even know. You will be nothing but that a slab of
cement shoved in the ground and a piss-poor obituary in the local newspaper. The depression is still there. You feel it right?

Bargaining. Please don't let me die, I don't want to die. I'm too young to die. Please, oh God, please don't let this be the end. Too bad. People live, people die. You may not have
seen it coming but we're all playing hold 'em with fate and the son of a bitch had a royal flush. You can beg and plead all you like but this is what's going to happen. It's already happened. In
fact, the blade is still lodged eight inches into your abdomen. Your eyes are beginning to lose their focus and you can feel yourself slipping. Still staring into those eyes. That look. Pure,
unforgiving hatred? Or vicious, carnal lust? Depends on who you are. Depends what this person gets his rocks off to.

It's time to accept your fate and realize your end has come. There's no fighting it anymore and there's nothing you can do but fight through the intense pressure and pain that riddles your
body and stare into those unblinking eyes that not once look away from you. This person wants to hold you tight and watch; feel the very last breath escape your body. Imagine that feeling. Would
you feel powerful? Or weak beyond compare? Would you feel remorse? Or would you feel victorious?

It's the 21st Century and statistics show a person is murdered every 40 seconds. Depending on your speed of reading, it's estimated between 8 and 16 people have just experienced everything
you just read. That's 2140 people experiencing that by this time tomorrow.

To conclude, the ideology of death is a certainty. There is no escape, no matter how it occurs. It's something we all will face and everybody we ever know or knew will go through the same ordeal.
Go hug your loved ones and express your feelings for them. You never know when it's going to be the last time.

Now for a little insight into the human psyche. While reading this, did you picture yourself as the victim? Or the attacker? Does it matter? Over the course of your lifetime, you will put yourself
in the shoes of both. It's your natural animalistic instincts. Your fight or flight. Your psychological mentality and eventual breakdown of cognitive response. Everything you see here is correct.
Everything is factual. Everything is i n e v i t a b l e.